


take your time

by sequestering



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/F, The Northuldra, Unconventional Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21556330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequestering/pseuds/sequestering
Summary: The elders say it has been thirty-six long winters since they hosted a guest-friend, that it is an honour and a privilege to welcome Queen Elsa of Arendelle.The elders do not say that the Northuldra have spent those thirty-six winters suffering the consequences of the last time they welcomed a stranger from a strange nation.
Relationships: Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 569





	take your time

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve watched Frozen 2 once so this is probably filled with inaccuracies. I just really need to get this out of my system.
> 
> Obligatory disclaimer: I don’t know anything about the Sami people. I don’t know anything about Norway or its history. I have done the absolute bare minimum of research. If I’ve made any particularly egregious/offensive errors, please let me know.

The Northuldra are not accustomed to strangers.

The elders say it has been thirty-six long winters since they hosted a guest-friend, that it is an honour and a privilege to welcome Queen Elsa of Arendelle.

The elders do not say that the Northuldra have spent those thirty-six winters suffering the consequences of the last time they welcomed a stranger from a strange nation. Nor do they mention the subsequent thirty-six winters of hostility with that strange nation.

What goes unsaid is that, for all that this queen is one of them, is family, she is still a stranger.

And she is very strange, this pale Southerner with her ghostly hair and quiet manner.

She is the star-white spirit who tamed a Nokk and turns tides at her whim, who rides off regularly over the churning sea, bleached hair and cloak streaming behind her, wraithlike and wild.

She is also the woman who sits for hours, wide-eyed, at the side of the tribe’s storyteller. Davdna humours her, tells her of the will-o-the-wisps, of the Stallos and their pipes, of the pathfinder and of the kelp-haired seal people. The queen is a good audience, she listens attentively and asks careful questions. When Davdna’s old eyes begin to slip closed, the queen is quick to ensure her comfort, bringing coffee or blankets.

She flits around camp, speaking eagerly to anyone who is willing. Nilan shows her his bone carving, the secret to the geometric motifs and patterning. Ovlla teaches her the rules of tablo and beats her soundly five times. Ryder introduces her to his reindeer, chattering away about each one’s name, heritage and personality.

So too are the children quick to forget the queen's foreignness. They follow her around, begging for a snow-troll, for a skating rink, for just one more fizzing display of colourful icy flakes. Slowly, the tribe softens. It is hard to fear a woman, even one so ghastly and elemental as this, when she has laughing children hanging off her dress.

Honeymaren does not much see the queen during the day. Her duties keep her out of the camp, herding reindeer through the forest, tracking the movements of the stone-giants, tracing the shifting boundaries of the Enchanted Forest. It is bone-wearying work and she has little time to dwell on the activities of a foreign princess.

But at the end of every day, when darkness settles over the forest and the tribe gathers round the fire for food, stories and sharing, the queen unerringly finds her way to Honeymaren’s side. Honeymaren tells herself it must be due to the queen’s reserved disposition. It is only natural, when alone in a strange place, to seek the comfort of a familiar face. There’s no need to look for more explanation. And they do get along well. Conversation flows easily and when it wanes to silence, the quiet is warm and comfortable.

So if Honeymaren begins to store up anecdotes – a close brush with battling stone-giants, the daring escape of one enterprising reindeer calf, a rare sighting of a snowy owl; if she begins to treasure their long evenings together, what of it? It has been a long time since Honeymaren has been able to make a new friend.

The queen stays fifteen days among the Northuldra before she visits Arendelle.

The visit is brief. She returns two days later, smile near splitting her face and her cheeks as close to red as Honeymaren has ever seen them. She laughs and stumbles over her words while relating the latest of Queen Anna’s misadventures in diplomatic relations, the myriad details of Queen Anna’s upcoming wedding, how much Queen Anna has changed.

Honeymaren doesn’t have a sister. She has Ryder and she loves him in all his dopey kindness. She wonders if, had Ryder been a woman, she would love him like the queen loves Queen Anna. Maybe. Maybe not.

The queen talks until the fire is burned down to cinders and all but the two of them have retreated to their tents. _Their time_ is how Honeymaren thinks of it. When they are safe and warm and can say anything.

“You should come with me, next time," The queen is looking at her earnestly, hair and skin shining in the gloom, inhuman. Her fingers touch Honeymaren’s wrist. "Kristoff would like to see Ryder and I should like to show you Arendelle.”

“I think I would like that.”

They do visit Arendelle. It is bizarre and beautiful and so very foreign.

That is not a surprise. The surprise is that, when Queen Anna is forced to attend to the affairs of state, when Kristoff is dealing with traders, when Olaf is distracted by interesting passersby, Arendelle is foreign to them both. It is a city made of brick and mortar, designed for order and stability. It is filled with a people for whom magic means only suffering.

There is no place here for the queen – for Elsa – with her chaotic beauty and wild magic. To fit in, she would need to break off little pieces of herself. When Elsa’s cold fingers find her own, Honeymaren does not know who more needs the comfort.

They return three days later to the Enchanted Forest, to the Northuldra, and to a shared tent.

Little else changes. Elsa is not one to be held in one place for long. Honeymaren is not one to do the holding.

Reports come in from scouts that there is a fire-spitter the size of a mountain wreaking havoc on the western side of the Enchanted Forest. Elsa sets out to investigate. She returns with singed hair, burnt skin and stories of trouble brewing among the spirits. On the night of her return, when the tribe is silent but for the crickets, during _their time_ , Honeymaren kisses the fading burns and lets herself cry into Elsa’s chest.

Elsa strokes bandaged, clumsy fingers through Honeymaren’s hair. “I’ll always come back to you,” she whispers. “I’ll always come back.”

Honeymaren can trust that. Trust is a lot like faith and the Northuldra are experts in faith.

Next is an embassy from the Southern Isles, requesting aid in dealing with a spree of localised whirlwinds. Then a quest bestowed on Elsa by Ahtohallan to right a centuries old wrong, returning a woman’s restless bones to her grandchildren.

And sometimes there is no calling at all, only a change in the wind. Elsa’s pale eyes stray to the sea and Honeymaren wakes to a space in the blankets. That’s fine. She’ll be back.

**Author's Note:**

> I am on [Tumblr](https://sequestering.tumblr.com/).


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